


Last Shall Be First

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Series: The Pacemakers [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Adoption, Bar Room Brawl, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bullying, Denial of Feelings, Drinking to Cope, Existential Angst, First Meetings, Fist Fights, Hopeful Ending, Humorous Ending, Other, Pace Mates, Pre-Series, Protectiveness, Rejection, Self-Defense, Self-Esteem Issues, Strangers to Brothers, Traditions, outcasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Among Minibots, it's traditional that a group of five or six will form a "pace", adopting each other as kin and swearing an oath to remain that way as long as they're functioning.</p><p>Brawn knows exactly why no one will take him on, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Shall Be First

**Author's Note:**

> The headcanon for Minibot paces comes from [inkand_paper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inkand_paper/pseuds/inkand_paper), though I adopted and adapted it for my own purposes :D

He didn’t seem like much to Brawn—a construction worker who had entered the tavern with five more Minibots who were obviously his team. Same old, same old. They had to be a pace, no room for an Unraveler.

Chuckling mirthlessly to himself, Brawn rolled the word over in his processor. He was an Unraveler. The divorce with the first pace had happened quickly, but if Brawn were to be completely honest, it had felt like a vibroblade were sawing back and forth into his spark chamber when his name had been marred with the sickening title.

 _He_ had Unraveled his pace-bond. _He_ was to blame. _He_ was a _killer_ of paces. At least, this was what he had been told before every Minibot he knew ceased any contact with him, lest they be guilty by association.

Brawn gulped down half of his energon cube, letting the buzz cool the scars around his spark, and then pushed the drink aside, his optics still tracking the construction worker's movements. It was rare to find a Minibot who didn't show signs of being in pace with the team. This particular worker trudged behind and to the left of the others, a placement of submission, while his demeanor spoke of anything but: his face was shadowed and his hands were held in fists by his sides.

Very rare. Very interesting.

The five Minibots in front stopped abruptly, with the last stumbling to backpedal. One of the others whirled and shoved at him, sending him toward a table. Brawn winced, expecting a shattering crash, but this Mini miraculously twirled himself back upright before any damage could be done.

“Watch where you step,” the one who had shoved him growled. The one who’d received the treatment, whom Brawn had just nicknamed Sidestep, glowered back defiantly.

“Right back at you, Remix. Next time you stop like that, I'll probably end up with my knee in your tailpipe.” At these words, Remix's large hand closed around the dome of his right shoulder, jerking him in for hissed words that Brawn couldn't catch. Whatever Remix was saying, Sidestep’s glare softened into worry, followed by fear.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered at last, wincing and clutching at his shoulder as soon as Remix released him.

Taking another swig of his cube, Brawn watched Sidestep study the ground while his team ordered elite high-grade—delightful to the sensory net, but somewhat risky to Minibot frames and extremely expensive. When the mech working the counter asked if that would be all, Remix leaned back without even looking and found the dent he’d left in Sidestep’s shoulder, deepening it as he dragged him to the forefront of the group.

“You’re gonna pay,” Remix snarled. For a long moment Sidestep made no move to do so, his fists quivering at his sides.

 _Punch him_ , Brawn pleaded mentally. To his sorrow, Sidestep finally unclenched his hands, his fingertips smudged blue with energon he’d drawn from his own palms. It stained the edges of silver credits as Sidestep handled them, pushing them miserably across the counter.

“For the cubes you’re ordering, this isn’t enough!” the mech complained after a first glance. Brawn squeezed his own cube in frustration. Couldn’t the mech cut poor Sidestep some slack? Was he blind to what had just happened?

“I’ll work it off for you,” Sidestep offered faintly.

“Not gonna cut it. I don't need another buyer flakin’ out on their debts!”

Sidestep opened his mouth to protest, but another member of his team nudged him in his dented shoulder. “You take our next orn for us, I might pitch in,” they offered with a sickly-sweet smile.

Openly gaping, Brawn wondered at the nerve of these…these _abusers_. Their next orn? An entirety of twenty Cybertronian hours, performing the work of five other mechs plus his own duties? It might kill him.

“Sure,” Sidestep agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

“I knew you’d see reason,” one of the others cheered before revealing his own mound of credits to add to the meager amount Sidestep had been able to scrounge up. The others did so as well and immediately took their cubes, heading for a table. Sidestep trailed after them, no energon in hand.

Brawn hadn’t realized he was standing until he was weaving in between tables and had a hand around Sidestep’s wrist. Sidestep jerked against him, alarmed by what he viewed as a possible attack, but Brawn held firm.

“Come with me,” Brawn hissed, pulling him toward his own table and plunking him down firmly there.

Sidestep seemed unsure of what to do about this new placement. He glanced furtively at his team, who hadn’t noticed his absence, and hunched his shoulders.

“Why did you let them do that?” Brawn demanded, recapturing the other Mini’s attention.

“I work _for_ them, not _with_ them,” Sidestep snapped. “I do what they say. What business is it of yours?”

“I want to know who I’m giving my energon to,” Brawn shot back. “It’s a pretty good cube and of all people, I’m giving it to _you_.”

Sidestep stared at the cube as Brawn slid it across the table to him. He reached tentatively toward it and then stopped, lifting the hand to cover his optics instead.

“Why?” he whispered brokenly. “You want me to do your work too, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” Brawn sighed. “If you’re not made of sturdy stuff, that work load might send you to the medics.”

“And I would have to pay for that too,” Sidestep mumbled, leaning further into his hand to relieve himself of a helm-ache.

“Hey.” Brawn leaned forward, grasping the hand and tugging it away so they could make optic contact. “When was the last time you refueled?”

“Um…”

“Too long then. How about recharge?”

“I think—”

“Okay, too long on both counts. Listen, you need to quit your job,” Brawn urged. Sidestep pulled his hand away, drawing static from them both.

“Who _are_ you?!” Sidestep demanded shrilly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I was in—” Brawn hesitated. “—a bad crowd, like you are, and it…ruined my life.” His gaze flickering to the tabletop, he added softly, “My name is Brawn.”

He expected Sidestep to bolt at the designation. “I’ve heard about you!” he would cry with disgust. “You’re an Unraveler! Get away from me!”

 _Though I’m not sure he’d mind, given the type of pace he’s in_ , one half of Brawn’s CPU commented.

 _Don’t kid yourself. A cruel pace might just be better than no pace. Not much though_.

“Huffer.”

Brawn looked up once more, seeing no disgust—or even recognition, for that matter. This took him aback, so he stammered dumbly. “Wait, what?”

“Huffer. That’s me,” Sidestep—no, Huffer—repeated. Brawn waited for _Huffer_ to introduce the members of his pace as well, per tradition, but he didn’t.

 _Well, judging from his role in the pace, he probably doesn’t have that honor_ , Brawn realized, sympathy mingling with pain in his spark. He had been leader of a pace and had led them to disaster. Snatching up the energon cube, he drank a bit more before returning it to Huffer, who finished it off.

Awkward silence reigned then as they realized what they’d just done. Sharing energon was for _brothers_ to do, not strangers. As if on cue, Huffer seemed to realize what Brawn had been pondering during his time in the tavern and he asked an innocent question:

“Where’s _your_ pace?”

Brawn felt as though he’d been slapped. Looming higher in his chair, he barked, “I don’t have one. I Unraveled it.”

Huffer’s optics widened and Brawn glared at him mightily, causing him to hunch down, twirling the empty energon cube.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

What? Brawn mouthed the word but no sound came with it. _What?_

“I don’t have a pace myself,” Huffer mumbled. “I don’t know if I ever will; no one will take me.”

“But your team—” Brawn started.

Huffer choked out a derisive laugh. “I would never bond myself to them. _Ever_.”

Brawn let this information process, watching the energon cube spin. How did paces usually start? Sharing energon. Sharing woes.

“What about me?” Brawn blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Don’t do it,” Huffer gasped. “They’re horrible! I don’t think they’re even bound to each other; the truth is, they hate everyone, even each other—”

“I meant you,” Brawn cut in. “Would you…like to be pace-mates?” At Huffer’s falling jaw, Brawn rushed on. “I know we’ve only just met, but you’re the first person to speak to me in diuns and—I mean, we could just be friends—Sorry, I’m sorry, you probably think I’m a complete miss-clock. Never mind, just forget it.”

Huffer didn’t seem like he was going to forget it. _I’ve scarred him_ , Brawn cursed himself. _He’s going to run back to those tyrants any klik now. Wait for it_ …

“Pace-mates with a…an Unraveler?” Huffer mused faintly. He pressed his face into both hands now and concluded, “It’s probably all I’m worth. Sure, Brawn. I’ll do it.”

Brawn would never admit it and Huffer would never find out, but there was surely coolant in his optics as he leapt trembling to his feet. He had a new mission: to get banned from this place permanently for starting the biggest brawl this side of Iacon.

Remix and the others paid generously for this mission, making it _highly_ successful.


End file.
